I'm not the only weirdo out here.
This fellow is driving this little 50's vintage Austin from his former home in Alaska to a new start in New York. Pleasant whack job. He goes uphill about as fast as I do.
This was a relatively peaceful moment at this particular gas station. Inside behind a desk sat a gentleman who gave me directions to the grocery and library. I assumed he was the owner until he got up and climbed into a semi outside. When I realized my mistake apologized for holding him up. He just laughed and said: "It's my wife's place. She runs it. She keeps me on the road driving. Not such a bad thing."
I camped about a block from here and all evening long I could hear a female voice launching f-bombs at kids that weren't doing what the voice wanted them to be doing. I imagined the semi driver smiling as he made his way peacefully to Topeka.
